Andras Schiff creates an illusion of rare purity

November 05, 2012|By Alan G. Artner, Special to the Tribune

Sunday afternoon at Orchestra Hall pianist Andras Schiff accomplished the paradox of playing Book Two of Johann Sebastian Bach's "The Well-Tempered Clavier" in such a way that got extremely close to what the composer had written while presenting a radically different experience from what Bach would have known.

It was a contemporary interpretation so respectful of the printed page that the performer receded to give an illusion of rare purity. The audience rewarded this with a concentration itself rare and much more telling than the customary standing ovation that followed.

The two books of "The Well-Tempered Clavier" form a treatise that Bach played for friends but did not expect anyone else to perform in a single sitting. Each volume contains 24 preludes and fugues. The "clavier" in the title means "keyboard" and does not specify what kind. In Bach's time neither the modern piano nor the piano recital had yet come into being.

Bach did not give tempo indications for all the preludes and fugues. Nor are there markings for expression or dynamics. Editors have added this or that, but most performers peel away the accretions, relying on research into performing practices, which vary depending on the instrument players have chosen.

Central to Schiff's choice of the piano was the tone and size of sound that comes from entirely avoiding the use of the sustaining pedal. That combined with undemonstrative, comparatively gentle attacks constricted the range of color and power. It was especially effective in conveying the light bounce of moderately quick tempos, including all nine of the pieces marked Allegretto.

Schiff's sound was clean but never cold or cutting in the all-too-common contemporary manner. The performances proved ideal realizations of such states as vivacity, graciousness and tranquillity. They failed ever so slightly, however, when the music called for gravity and majesty.

Schiff established moods within the first few bars and adhered to them firmly, unwaveringly. He consistently allowed the subject of each fugue to stand out. He made all repeats, sounding the music differently or providing little embellishments the second time around. Everything was supremely tasteful.

For an encore Schiff went back to the beginning of Book One, giving a lapidary account of the C-major Prelude and Fugue.